


For Good

by Jojolightningfingers



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojolightningfingers/pseuds/Jojolightningfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title subject to change</p><p>In which Ike is leaving, and Soren wants a say in the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Good

**Author's Note:**

> Title and ending subject to change, being as I'm not sure how well they mesh with the rest of the story.  
> At some point many months ago I was thinking about Ike and Soren and this happened.

When Soren sees him, he says nothing, for he has no idea what to say. For once, his prodigious intellect has drawn a blank—he has so many questions and almost all of them can be answered simply by looking at what is before him. 'What are you doing' is an obvious one: the thick, hooded traveling cloak wrapped around Ike's shoulders and the rucksack he's currently closing speak for themselves. 'Where are you going' is pointless: Soren doubts that Ike himself has that figured out yet. 'Why are you leaving' is similarly redundant: Soren has never known a man more deathly allergic to fame than Ike. By all rights, Soren should have seen this coming from the beginning, but it seems that he had decided, quite uncharacteristically, to blind himself to the inevitable. He's still doing it now; some force keeps him standing in the doorway, distantly watching Ike sling his pack over one shoulder and start to turn.

In the instant that Ike spots him—one brief second between the first step he takes and the second—Soren sees Ike truly startled. He sucks in a gasp through his teeth, the pack hits the floor with a solid thud and nearly a foot of polished steel gleams suddenly in the dim lamplight. The tip of the sword has almost left its sheathe and Ike is prepared to lunge at him before his mind catches up with his body and recognizes the face before him. He freezes, eyes widening. “Soren,” he blurts, all dull surprise and emotion tamped down under a keenly honed warrior's instinct, as if the name had been snatched from his lips.

The sudden movement elicits a similar response from Soren—as Ike makes to attack, he makes to defend (or rather, to dodge—he has no tome with him). When Ike relaxes, so does he. “Ike,” he replies, dull surprise because the adrenaline rush has kicked aside all of his rationalizing, sparking emotion that creeps sluggishly, horribly under his skin.

For a few moments, silence. Ike sheathes his sword and fetches his pack from where it's fallen, straightening awkwardly. Soren stands completely still, squaring his shoulders. His heart has this inane idea that if he simply bars Ike's way out of the room, he won't be able to leave. The sensible part of him knows that's impossible and stupid for many reasons (Ike can overpower him easily, there is a window behind him that he can get out of, Ike's determination to do something can't be thwarted even by the Goddess Herself) but that part of him has been displaced, and Soren can be relentlessly stubborn when it comes to this man.

Still silent, Ike takes one halting step towards Soren. Then another. He tries to move past him, around him.

No.

Soren raises a hand and grabs Ike's arm firmly. Ike stops immediately at the touch, as if he hadn't been expecting to escape from him that easily. All the doubts and questions spinning in his head have boiled down into one that he _must_ have answered, no matter what.

“Why?” Soren's surprised at how flinty and cold his own voice sounds.

Ike pulls from his grasp; Soren whirls around in a panic, but Ike has made no move to leave. He settles against the doorframe, gazing down at Soren quietly. “You know why.”

“That isn't what I _meant_ and you know it,” Soren retorts, a touch frustrated that he can't get his meaning across more clearly. “Why would you leave without a single goodbye? To Titania, to me—to your _sister_ , Ike. She's going to be devastated.” Perhaps dragging Mist into this was a low blow, but he wouldn't lose sleep over it if it got Ike to rethink himself. “She's already lost her father. She doesn't need to lose her brother too.”

“Mist is much stronger than you give her credit for, Soren. She doesn't need me anymore.” He says it, but Soren can tell that he doesn't for an instant believe it. His eyes are averted, and the set of his mouth screams guilt.

This isn't about Mist anyway. Soren lets the subject rest. “I'm going with you.”

Ike gives him a wide-eyed look. “Soren—”

“ _I_ need you, Ike.” It may have been the black dragon blood in his veins, but now that Soren's emotions were up, he was finding it difficult to get a hold on them again. He had to make Ike _understand_. “All I've ever needed, from that first day in Gallia, was you. Maybe it's naïve and childish of me to think so, but life without you is something that I have no desire to return to.” Soren takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. His chest is tight and hot; anger, he realizes, and fear.

He's been scared before, plenty of times. Fear of death was a completely natural and human reaction, and impossible to avoid when your job was to kill for a living. Fear of abandonment, though—that was a different beast. A darker, more poisonous one. Soren swallows through the knot in his throat.

“I know why you don't want to stay,” he continues, eyes open again with a new fire. “And I won't be so selfish as to demand that you not leave. But please, Ike; don't leave me here. Let me go with you.”

Ike is silent for a moment, then he lets out a breath. He approaches Soren, staring down with those fiery blue eyes, and raises a hand to his face. “I hate making you cry,” he sighs softly, wiping away the wetness gathered at the corners of Soren's eyes with his thumb. Until that moment, Soren hadn't realized he'd been crying; he looks away, face hot. Ike lets his hand drop. “What about the others?”

Soren dries his tears quietly, as if they had never happened. “Titania is older and wiser than I am, and she's dealt with them longer,” he answers. “I don't always agree with her, but she'll be fine as a leader. I'm not really needed here either.” He chances a look back at Ike. “Besides, you need me more. You'll probably poison yourself inadvertently if I'm not with you to tell you what is and isn't edible.” A small smile turns his lips up when Ike tries to look offended but ends up grinning instead.

Regrettably, though, it doesn't last. Ike's expression sobers again. “I'm not coming back,” he warns. Hearing him say that hurts, even though Soren had surmised as much. It feels too final for his liking.

“I know. I thought you would say that.”

“I'll never see this place again, or the people in it. If you come with me, you won't either.”

“You sound as though you're trying to talk me out of this.” Soren folds his arms over his chest, pinning Ike in place with a look that makes him shift uncomfortably. “Why? Stop. I've made my decision.”

“I only want to make sure it isn't a hasty one.”

“I told you. All I need is you. My home is wherever you are. If that is here, so be it. If that is past Hatari and across the ocean, so be it. I have made my choice.”

When he's finished, Ike smiles affectionately. “I don't think I've ever seen you so passionate before, Soren.” He pauses long enough to pique Soren's curiosity, then he nods. “Okay. You've made your choice. You've convinced me. I'll leave, and you'll come with me.”

Soren takes a deep breath to squash the urge to hug him, nods, and leaves to pack what few things he'll want to take. His thoughts are filled with memories of a room in a tower, high above the rest of the world, warm arms and a soothing voice.

The air is cool and damp when he leaves the fortress. The moon hangs misty in the sky, dropping shafts of silver light on the forest, and on Ike, who waits patiently for him by the gate. Ike catches sight of him and rises from his crouch, holding out a hand for him. “Let's go,” he says, “the night's still young.” Soren takes it and they depart, together.

 


End file.
